Thick, tainted blood coursing
through black veins,
legs like two talon-tipped tree trunks
drag a confused creature
through the muck.
Breath of pure, unadulterated pestilence,
the smell alone keeps all
but the most intrepid
It picks the bones and chain mail
from seven sets of sated, grinning teeth.
There are many mouths to feed,
and all of them like to savor
A gnarled, writhing rat’s nest,
growing back stronger and fuller
in defiance of defeat.
An inexhaustible capacity
Seven falls to six,
poison blood mist sprays
from mangled stump,
then two more heads
come roaring back —
a flesh-wound quickly repaired.
Much worse than a strong enemy,
is one that’s well-prepared.